Today I find myself exactly where I was two years ago. I’m in a different house, in a different village, so it’s not that ‘exact place’; it’s a mental state. I’m blogging and excited with my preparations to go to Problogger, otherwise known as ‘Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory for Bloggers’ because it’s so damn exciting to get together with other people who live out their lives online as they’re working at home, alone. It’s also possibly because we tend to like chocolate too!

But…. 2 years ago I wrote this post, and then I went to Problogger and had a great time, and got inspired, and fired up, and then…. I stopped blogging. So this is my return to my blog after a 2 year absence. Yep, starting over again.

What happened? I got busy, I got tired, I was too busy working on other people’s blogs and websites to work on mine, I was forgetful, but more than that I was overwhelmed. I found myself writing more about how sorry I was for not writing, than anything else. And why? I mean, you don’t care! There’s not even that many of you to care! But I felt guilty and stressed, over something that was supposed to be a fun hobby, and that wasn’t a good place to find myself. I was too busy living my life to record it, and I felt guilt about that.

And… I went to Problogger. I met amazing people, even those I had blogger crushes on. But… I started to compare, and that’s a dangerous thing to do. I felt I could never be as good as that person, so why even bother? I felt I was writing exactly the same information that other bloggers were, and they were doing it better, so how could I think my writing was worthy of being out there? I have nothing new to say, so why bother saying anything? Not as good as…. Not good enough…. Uninteresting….. You know the drill. Perfectionism reared its ugly head.

And then there were the other fears…

How much of my life should I share online? I live in a small village where everyone knows everything anyway, but did I really want to give them the missing pieces? Would this blog interfere with my business? Would it interfere with my life? What if I got a troll? What if I got a stalker? I’ve had them before; I didn’t want to put myself out there and get another one! What if… what if… what if….

And there were too many things I wanted to do. With this blog. With other blogs. With my career. With my house. With my life. With my health.

So, I was overwhelmed. And overwhelm is fear. So is perfectionism. So is procrastination. And so my life was filled with fear.

There are some good things to do when you’re overwhelmed.

Get a nature injection. I live near the beach. I walk on the beach and breathe the salty air. I walk through the forest every day with my dogs. I smell the flowers, I hug trees, I watch the ducks nesting in my neighbour’s garden. I see the wallabies in my yard every evening. But, I was still overwhelmed.

Garden. Gardening, washing up, stretching, repetitive ‘mindless’ actions…. They all help to calm your mind. Gardening is particularly beneficial as you are connecting with nature, and getting healthy microbes on your skin. So I gardened. But, I still felt overwhelmed.

Breathe. Breathing calms the mind. It centers you. Most people don’t know how to breathe properly. After years of learning and teaching actor training, I do know, but I still don’t do it properly. I get tense, raise my shoulders, take shallow breaths, don’t let it all out. But every day I stretch and meditate and I calm my mind and center my breath and fill my lungs. But, I was still overwhelmed.

Take a break. I took several. And then I felt I had to apologise for them. I was still overwhelmed and confused. So I took a very big break; I just walked away.

It’s been on my mind ever since and I’ve felt guilty for not blogging. Every day, and I literally mean every day, I’ve wanted to write. We moved house. We bought a house! My dog passed away. We brought 2 new crazy, trouble making fur babies into the house. There were deaths and emergencies in the family. We went to Malaysia. I met fabulous people. My best friend had a baby. I started a business! I’ve seen great things. I’ve done boring things. And all of them, I’ve wanted to document, write about, make sense of, find meaning in, celebrate. But I didn’t. Because I wasn’t good enough, too boring, fearful, overwhelmed. Overwhelmed.

But now, one day from the wonderful madness of Problogger, I’m feeling motivated again. Motivated enough to just sit down right on top of that overwhelm and squash it, and do it anyway! Because I want to. Because knowing I will soon be connecting with other bloggers, and knowing that they have all felt this way at some time or another, has made me feel strong enough to type, to express, to share my story, and to click on Publish.

Will it last? I don’t know. Only time will tell. But this time, I at least promise not to apologise if I don’t! And even if you don’t care about that, I do!

When have you felt overwhelmed?

Has overwhelm ever stopped you from doing what you want to do?

]]>https://rawoncemore.com/2015/08/13/back-at-the-start-starting-over-again-again-again/feed/0overwhelm photorawoncemoreoverwhelm photoCreative Chaos and Problogger Countdownhttps://rawoncemore.com/2013/09/11/creative-chaos-and-problogger-countdown/
https://rawoncemore.com/2013/09/11/creative-chaos-and-problogger-countdown/#commentsWed, 11 Sep 2013 13:52:12 +0000http://rawoncemore.wordpress.com/?p=355This week has been absolute joyous madness. And the next month is going to get even crazier! It’s creative chaos time! My husband is The Scrappy Sculptor. He makes sculptures using old, rusted scrap metal and turning it into beautiful creatures and characters, full of life and personality. His work is amazing. Yes I’m biased, but check this out:

I’m also trying to engage with my own visual art to a level where I can hope to make at least a little food money from it. This month is Escape Artfest, our region’s annual festival of all things arty and creative. Jodhi is exhibiting in two exhibitions, I’m exhibiting in one. I’m also teaching a two day master class in clowning, and writing for three writing prizes. So there is a lot of making, writing and searching for inspiration going on in our house at the moment. To top it all off, Jodhi will also be exhibiting in two other exhibitions next month, and these are in western NSW, an 8 hr drive from home (each way). Oh yeah, and I’m on a plane heading to QLD for a week to attend the Problogger event (so very, very excited!). Jodhi’s then going to QLD for a different week, so we’ve got a few long return trips to Sydney ahead for airport drop offs and collections.

So where’s the relaxing and slowing down you may well ask? Well, I’m being very careful and conscious to make sure it’s all managed well. Lots of rest times, energy scheduling, and being kind to myself. Letting go off perfection and embracing imperfection as part of the creative process. That’s always been one of the toughest things for me as an artist and it’s meant I haven’t put as much of my work on public display as I could have in the past, because of a constant feeling of not being good enough. My own standards are impossible to meet, and the public perception of my work could never be as harsh or critical as my own has been. But not anymore. I’m smiling at mistakes. I’m following the paths they open up to see where they take me. And it’s so much more fun this way! It feels more ‘creative’, more inviting of a creative energy, a muse to lead me to my finished work. Creativity has often been a chore in the past because I made it that way with my self-criticism, judgement and perfectionism. So yeah, that’s a 20 year career as an artist that I’ve often made far more difficult and less enjoyable for myself with my own inner “poo-poo”-er. Well, I’m shutting that little demon in a box and throwing away the key. It serves no purpose anymore, and once I caught a glimpse of life without it, I was hooked!

Do you make aspects of your life more difficult than they need to be?Do you have your own demon or inner poo-poo-er?

I decided to get a new face. Well, I think it’s actually been my face all along. Right from day one I knew I wanted a hand drawn header which reflected my journey, and featured my gorgeous soul-place and home, the NSW South Coast. I also wanted it to give the sense of what I was about, and therefore what my blog was about. A healthy, simple life. The environment. Art. Creativity. Joy. And embracing my inner clown all the while (including while meditating).

A gorgeous soul I studied with at uni decided to branch out in her career and explore yet another of her many of talents: illustration. Hello synchronicity! From the first moment I saw Lou’s beautiful drawings, I knew I needed her ink on my blog. And so, all prettied up, Raw Once More is ME. Once more.

With enormous thanks to Lou Endicott. Please check out her beautiful illustration blog here. And enjoy the joy and sense of whimsy it brings you.

Art and creativity are such important cornerstones to my life. They form the basis of my career, home, hobbies, purchases, my planning, decision-making, marriage, friendships…. The list goes on. My husband is an artist. I am an artist. My friends are artists. And I’ve recently started recognising just how much of a hidden artist my mum is. So I plan to honour this in future blog posts and give you more insight into my creative life, the creative stars around me, and the creative muses that dance through my days.

Running away seems to be a survival instinct for me. I’m feisty, but when it comes down to the choice of fight or flight, I’m cashing in my frequent flyer points and getting the hell out of wherever. So I’ve been away for a while because I’ve been on the run again. Not literally; I didn’t actually go anywhere, but a section of my brain (officially named The Blog Cortex), packed its bags and hoofed it. I’ve attempted to come back a few times, but discovered The Blog Cortex was only interested in phoning it in from an area with dodgy reception. But today, its back, the bags are unpacked, and the shiny distractions have all been put away.

I think the initial trigger for my vacay from blog land was politics. Australia is in an election year, and quite honestly it’s depressing. That I do mean literally. It’s actually made it hard for me to get up sometimes (hello black dog, my old friend). I’m a deeply political person. I believe in human rights, caring for the environment, compassion, equal access to services etc. You might rightly get the sense I’m a bit left-wing. So political causes, I’m on board with. But I hate politics. Perhaps that’s not strong enough. I detest politics. In Australia at least, our current political landscape consists of posers and bullies, often within the same person. It’s a whole lot of arguing about nothing, calling each other names, clichés, and meaningless diatribe, no policies, and punishing our most vulnerable people in the name of political point scoring. Oh, and senseless bribery. Let’s not forget buying people’s votes with nonsensical incentives. Our politics is sexist, racist, ageist, homophobic, xenophobic and every other form of prejudice you can think of. And at times, downright idiotic. So I hate election years, witnessing billions of dollars are spent achieving nothing but some ego stroking and catchphrase generating.

At the time The Blog Cortex ran for the hills, our then Prime Minister Julia Gillard, was copping a battering from the opposition and her own party for, well, being female. She was then ousted by our Former Prime Minister (who she had ousted earlier), the election was recalled, and the idiocy continued. It was too much. I’m a political person, but I have always wanted this blog to be apolitical. I am known to have the odd rant about politics, but this blog is intended as a sacred, idiot-politician-free zone. But I became so surrounded by idiocy, and so completely and utterly pissed off and depressed by it all, that I couldn’t continue to write about other things when all I wanted to do was scream at these dickheads ruining my country. So The Blog Cortex ran. And kept running.

Then being away from here became a kind of blessing. I decided to take the time out to refocus on why I was here in the first place. What did I want? Why was I blogging? And why, as a self-confessed recovering perfectionist, did I still find fronting up to the page and spewing out my imperfections so scary? I had started to feel inadequate, comparing myself to people who have been blogging for years, and becoming terrified I was just copying every other blogger out there. What was the point of blogging if I wasn’t being original? Except I was. I’ve always written authentically. My blogging voice is still finding and defining itself, but it has been my voice on the page every time. I care about health, the environment, living simply, and ‘finding myself’. So do many other bloggers, so it’s inevitable I’ll write about the same topics as them now and then. But getting it into my head that this was ok was a bit tricky. That it’s ok to be imperfect. That it’s ok to be a beginner. I’ve always felt this need to be the best at everything I do, and being a beginner at things has always been more challenging for me because of it. So I took a bit of time to get the hell over myself, and just be me. The real me, not the perfect me.

And why am I writing? Because I damn well want to, that’s why. I’m passionate, I love writing, I have stories to share, and topics to explore. Maybe someone will like to read them. Maybe someone will relate. Maybe someone will like visiting my little internet home. But primarily, I am writing because I want to, I need to. I am letting go of Little Miss Perfect, Madame Needtoplease, and the Whiny WhyDon’tYouLikeMe? From now on, I front up, I write, I smile, and I leave the self-criticism behind. This recovering perfectionism gig is a hard one, and my time away helped me refocus on that too. I’ve enlisted a support team because trying to do it all myself wasn’t really working – it kind of reinforced my need to be the best at everything and be able to do everything immediately: “I’m going to stop being a perfectionist now, and I’ll be the best damn non-perfectionist, healthy, whole person there is!” Um, yeah…. So I enlisted a coach, I gave my husband permission to lecture me more when he realised I was risking my health, and I gave myself permission to stop criticising myself, and start loving and caring for myself instead. And I’ve also decided to be more upfront. Stop hiding. Starting with my identity. I had decided to be anonymous on this blog as I thought that would allow me more authenticity and freedom to write what I really want to, but now I know that was a bullshit cop-out. I am who I am, and though I’m still in search of who exactly that is, I am determined to be an authentic me. So no more hiding. My name’s K-M (I’m not hiding, that really is my name!), and I’m a recovering perfectionist! And so I’m back, with an identity and a new energy. The Blog Cortex is back full of post-holiday verve. Tomorrow I will unveil a new look for my blog; a new outfit and focus. My perfectionism is still lurking, but I’m giving it regular kicks up the butt.

I can’t guarantee I won’t run again. Sometimes I need to and so I shall. It gives me time out. It helps me find perspective and focus again. It ensures my health is taken care of. In fact, sometimes when I’ve refused to run, my body has stepped in and forced me to. After a year working for Cirque du Soleil in an extremely stressful and health-taxing role, my body stepped in. I refused to take a break. I refused to admit that working up to 17 hours a day, 7 days per week wasn’t good for anyone, let alone someone with chronic health conditions. My perfectionism was killing me, so my body found a way to save me. I wasn’t listening to my body yelling into a megaphone about my failing immune system and organs due to my autoimmune conditions. I’d just drink more coffee and take more pain killers. So my body pulled out the big guns and gave me a flirtation with breast cancer. I had to listen to that! It was the third time that my breasts had given me this message written in fireworks that I couldn’t ignore. In her book, Heal Your Body, Louise Hay says dis-ease in the breasts is caused by “a refusal to nourish the self. Putting everyone else first”.* I rushed home from Brazil to get surgery – I had allowed myself 6 weeks off work for surgery and recovery time, and I had my mum line up surgeons in Sydney so there was no delay when I got to Australia, just a couple of days to recover from jetlag, then slice and dice time. This was my plan so I could back to my Very Important Job looking after lots of people, and ignoring my own health, as quickly as possible. It all went to plan. Until I got back. A week after getting back to Brazil, it was obvious that I was no longer in the right place. I probably never was. My health had to come first and I finally had to face up to that. It was time to listen to my body, really listen, and to listen to others who had seen my body’s distress signals, and go home – not run, but walk, carefully, imperfectly and with vulnerability. And so I did.

The first time I ever ran away I think I was about 5. After an argument with someone in my family, I packed a bag with my essentials (which I’m sure included a toothbrush, book, and possibly something to cuddle), announced to my mum that I was sad and angry and felt unloved so I was running away. She held back laughter and kissed me goodbye. I think I ran away to the backyard and sat under the trampoline for about 10 minutes, then went home and announced I was willing to give them another chance. I still run away, but now I’ve got a lot more baggage and the only person I need to be able grant a second chance to is myself. And I’m finally finding my way back home.

*Too woo woo for you? There are many schools of thought that believe the body, mind and spirit are inextricably linked, and therefore many of our negative experiences, memories, associations, and emotional and spiritual wounds are worn by our body as dis-ease. The more I delve into this, the more I believe it to be so.

Have you ever run away? From yourself? Have you found your way back home?

]]>https://rawoncemore.com/2013/08/29/running-away-a-rant-a-revelation-and-a-reawakening/feed/1runningawayrawoncemorerunningawayCelebrating the Scarecrowhttps://rawoncemore.com/2013/06/11/celebrating-the-scarecrow/
https://rawoncemore.com/2013/06/11/celebrating-the-scarecrow/#respondTue, 11 Jun 2013 09:39:58 +0000http://rawoncemore.com/?p=314Like most small, country towns, Milton (which is up the road a bit from me here on the NSW South Coast) has a wacky annual festival: The Scarecrow Festival. I don’t know its origins, but as we’re new around town we thought we’d mosey along on Saturday and check it out. It seems there’s a theme every year, and this year was Scary Scarecrows. A touch of Halloween in June, using scarecrows on the street? Strange, but strange is what we like best! And it worked!

locals getting their scarecrow on

On a sunny winter’s day seemingly the entire town had flocked to the main streets for markets, buskers, dancing, rock wall climbing, and betting on where Maisie Moo the cow would, well, poo. Young children dressed as scary scarecrows for the fancy dress competition. A couple of enterprising young girls with pumpkin faces had even decided to busk by singing ‘I’m a Dingle Dangle Scarecrow’. Over. And. Over.

Mr Raw paying the buskers’ salary(yes, that is a water bottle in his pocket and yes, he was happy to see me!)

The highlight of the festival is the scarecrows (which is probably a good thing for a Scarecrow Festival). Local businesses and residents get into the spirit by putting their own themed scarecrow on display. They start appearing at around the start of May, and gradually fill Milton and the surrounding towns with scarecrow goodness. A winner was announced, but sadly we missed the judging. But here’s a few we snapped:

that leotard definitely scared me

this was a big, round pumpkin when they first put it out. But you know what they say… never work with children or vegetables!

we artists are scary folk

Drunken Darth?

another scarecrow looking a little drunk, although the smile on this one makes me think he’s been hitting the harder stuff

quirky considering the business who made it wasn’t even an optometrist, just someone with a good sense of humour

definitely scary! I think this guy tried to pick me up once

I loved this cute ET!

I thought this guy was beautiful

even the church got in on the fun, but I’m not sure scary Jesus is really the look they should be going for

I want my mummy!

burning Pinocchio at the stake… I know I’ve thought about it!

scariest of them all?? Good effort from an accountant’s firm

This is probably the kind of thing I would’ve mocked (but secretly loved) when I was much younger. Now I can proudly state that I really did love it. It was fun, and quaint, entertaining, and hilarious. It brought much-needed visitors to a town that relies on the cash flow of tourists, who tend to visit less often during winter. And it was a demonstration of one of the main reasons we chose to move to a small rural area. Community. The whole community came together to put on a festival, promote it, and enjoy it. Everyone got involved in one way or another. People shouted hello to each other with big smiles on their faces (painted or plain). People celebrated the pure joy that comes from getting together with the whole town to celebrate bundles of straw in costume. We laughed, we watched, we ate, we enjoyed, and we felt like we had found somewhere we belonged.

Oh yes! Any town with this on the main street is a town where we belong!

Does your town have any strange rituals? Festivals? Crazy things on the main street?

]]>https://rawoncemore.com/2013/06/11/celebrating-the-scarecrow/feed/0rawoncemorelocals getting their scarecrow onMr Raw paying the buskers' salary (yes, that is a water bottle in his pocket and yes, he was happy to see me!)that leotard definitely scared methis was a big, round pumpkin when they first put it out. But you know what they say... never work with children or vegetables!we artists are scary folkDrunken Darth? another scarecrow looking a little drunk, although the smile on this one makes me think he's been hitting the harder stuffquirky considering the business who made it wasn't even an optometrist, just someone with a good sense of humourdefinitely scary! I think this guy tried to pick me up onceI loved this cute ET!I thought this guy was beautifuleven the church got in on the fun, but I'm not sure scary Jesus is really the look they should be going forI want my mummy!burning Pinocchio at the stake... I know I've thought about it!scariest of them all?? Good effort from an accountant's firmOh yes! Any town with this on the main street is a town where we belong!Sorries, Sorrows, and Shaking It Offhttps://rawoncemore.com/2013/06/02/sorries-sorrows-and-shaking-it-off/
https://rawoncemore.com/2013/06/02/sorries-sorrows-and-shaking-it-off/#respondSun, 02 Jun 2013 11:05:27 +0000http://rawoncemore.com/?p=302So, today was a new day. I imposed an end to my day of sloth and self-pity, although it’s possible that wine and chocolate are still featuring in my evening. I feel the need to apologise to you for yesterday’s post. For my expression of my weakness, exhaustion, my admission that sometimes it’s just all too much. But I’m not going to.

You see, I’ve spent most of my life sick and in pain. I’ve also spent most of my life pretending I’m not. Hiding the pain. Performing on stage and running off after the bow to throw up and collapse. Both in my work on the stage, and in my real life: my acting career didn’t pause when I left work. When people have caught me out, when I’ve been upfront about my illnesses, when someone’s suspected something, I’ve laughed. I’ve assured them it sounds, or looks, worse than it is. I’ve let them believe my illness was more a formality than anything else, I wore it like a badge of honour, but quickly assured I was still completely capable of anything, everything, life throws at me. And for the most part I have been. I made myself be. I’m stubborn. I’ve excelled and succeeded in areas that ‘healthy’ people would struggle to. Even if that meant making my husband carry me into my office and place me upright behind my desk and hover close by for when I needed him to do something physical for me, like answer the phone, or pick me up off the floor.

And in those rare moments when I’ve been completely caught out, when I couldn’t hide it, when the cane came out, when I had to take time off, when someone saw my crying, or wobbling, or collapsing, I apologised. I was so sorry for making a big deal of it. I was sorry for causing anyone inconvenience. I was so sorry for people seeing me like that. I was sorry for my weakness, my exhaustion, causing a scene, disturbing the peace, upsetting routine, being ‘abnormal’. Being less than. Being imperfect. Oh how I apologised! Did I need to? Probably not. My perception was always tainted by my own standards of perfection for myself. But then again….

The first sunrise in Australia after I arrived home, unemployed

In my last major position, I was upfront about my conditions when I took the job. I worked crazy long hours under even crazier conditions. I lived and breathed for my job. Despite my illnesses and pain I showed up every day and night. I worked my ass off. I achieved. I received compliments on my work. I took two days off in that time – one day after being taken to hospital after passing out, and another for having surgery. But then something unexpected happened. I had a ‘health scare’. A different one. A completely unexpected one. Doctors in Brazil told me that I had breast cancer. I rushed home to see a surgeon in Australia, and took 6 weeks off work. It all turned out ok. I went back to work. I’d had two surgeries, I was exhausted, but I showed up. A week later I had to leave my job. Because of my health. It hurt. More than any pain I’d ever felt. It was all my nightmares, my indignities, everything I’d refused to admit, to reveal, everything I’d apologised for….. And my dream was gone. And I said sorry. Again.

I won’t apologise anymore. That is my resolution to myself. Sometimes I feel a little sorry for myself. Sometimes I cry, I’m weak, I crumble. But that’s ok, it’s normal. I know there are people worse off than me. I know it could be worse. I know I ‘don’t look sick’. But it’s ok to admit that I’m tired, that I hate it, that I wish I didn’t have to deal with this, that I’m scared, that every time I hear of someone dying from Lupus I shake uncontrollably, that I’m just plain pissed off with this whole situation. It’s healthy. I vent. I release. I write off a day, I rest, I cry, I face my fears. Then the next day I get up and face the world again with a smile (and codeine!)

On the beach today, unashamedly ME

So am I sorry for my self-pitying indulgence yesterday? No. But I’m grateful you’re still here

Do you apologise too much? Have you ever felt ‘less than’ for something that you can’t control?

I am full of self-pity. I do not like to be. I think sometimes it is necessary.

I feel I am achieving nil. I feel disheartened. I write to remind myself of the year to date. The effort exhausts me.

I am reminiscing of a life before lupus. But do I remember? Did I have one at all?

I ask myself permission to stop. To do nothing, to rest. I readily agree. Today my brain offers no arguments.

I am not brave. I am a coward today. I fear. I cry. I question.

I dream of travelling again to faraway lands. I wonder if I ever will.

I lay. I do not sleep. I toss, I turn, I hug my iPad and its connection to The World.

I speak on the phone to a friend, but his words confuse me. My brain has no reception. Too much interference.

I am not writing the post I thought I would. Instead I am massaging my body with key strokes, quick, but gentle. Always gently.

I wait for my love to come home. To fill the house with light for I have none. But he is also tired.

I close today with hope that tomorrow brings more light. More, just more.

]]>https://rawoncemore.com/2013/06/01/today-i-am-sloth-with-chocolate-and-wine/feed/7rawoncemoreThree legged LupieBack (again) and Thankshttps://rawoncemore.com/2013/05/22/back-again-and-thanks/
https://rawoncemore.com/2013/05/22/back-again-and-thanks/#commentsWed, 22 May 2013 12:01:35 +0000http://rawoncemore.com/?p=269Dear Readers, I disappeared (again!). I know it wasn’t that long ago I wrote a post just like this one, but I’ve been in the same guilt zone lately. I had some really shitty days with my illness where my brain had enough trouble remembering my name, let alone writing blog posts. I also had a few things to get sorted out in my head before I returned to the keyboard. So (once again) I’m back. I can now happily guarantee that these disappearances will happen from time to time. Between lupus, ME etc, depression and anxiety, the rest of my life, and those moments where I just need to shut out the world, I’m gonna have to take time out now and then. I’m sure none of you could care less, but as a recovering perfectionist, I’ve had some struggles with not facing up to the screen every day. But, I can finally say I’m now ok with it (I think!).

image by tanahelene

I have also been touched by some gestures made by a couple of lovely bloggers and readers.

They awarded me with blog awards, and both were a while ago, so it’s time I gave them a proper thanks. I know there are mixed feelings out there about blog awards, but I am a new blogger with a tiny readership, just feeling my way and making this all up as I go along. So, I have to say that these awards were lovely. It lifted my spirits and gave me the biggest smile to know that two fellow bloggers are einterested in what I had to say. Here, in my early days, when I wonder if anyone’s out there, and whether this is worth the energy or not (I don’t have a whole lot of that, so it’s really a huge question), these two little tokens meant a lot. So thank you wonderful women! As both bloggers also asked for more information about me, I thought this was a good opportunity to tell a bit more.

First up a big thank you to Sarah at womanonpause.com who chose to give me a Liebster Award, which seems to exist to bring attention to small blogs. As part of the award-giving Sarah asked three questions of me:

1. Why do you blog? Funnily enough I’m actually planning an entire blog post that answers this one. I’ve experienced a lot in my life, good and bad, and lived through a lot of chaos (let’s call it ‘chaos’; a far nicer word than some others). I’ve also had some experiences and opportunities that most would label ‘unusual’ (or “OMG that’s amazing!”), so I always felt I had a few stories in me. Last year I went through another round of hell, and the concept of writing a blog to process it all started to form. But I didn’t. I held onto the concept though, and now that life is more stable and my health a lot better, I can write about the good, the bad and the in-between. I’m a passionate person, I’m a writer, and writing a blog seems like the perfect way to share my passions and my life.

2. What inspires you? This is actually a very difficult question for me to answer. A lot of people and a lot of things inspire me for very different reasons. But I’ll mention a few.

I’m inspired by this incredibly beautiful world we live in: I’m inspired to do everything I can to help maintain it.I’m inspired by people who dedicate their lives to saving it.

I’m inspired by people I’ve met overseas and in my country, who fight to survive against poverty, ill-health, no access to education, medical help, or financial help, and who just do it. They survive, they laugh, they cry, they raise their children with love, and they live.

I’m inspired by the incredibly talented performers I have had the honour to work with. The dedication and determination they have, the courage to risk everything (including, for some, their lives) to offer a magical experience for their audiences.

My husband. His talent, his love, his humour, his compassion, his intelligence, his encouragement, his spirit.

Passion. People who are passionate about their life, their work, their families, their joy.

3. Morning Person or Night Owl? There is no doubt here! I do not function before about 11am. It doesn’t matter how much sleep I’ve had, if I’m up at 8am I may be conscious but I assure you nobody’s home! From the time I was a small child, I was a night owl. I read under the covers, I resisted all attempts at waking in the morning. I think better in the afternoon or evening, I feel more like me. Mornings are beautiful, I wish my body could embrace them, but it’s the moon and stars for me!

Next, thanks to the gorgeous gal behind Be Free at livingwithanxietytoday.wordpress.com for The Very Inspiring Blogger Award. Inspiring is an interesting word. I’m not sure it fits me. I have no idea what I’m doing, I just spew out words. But I’m grateful to be thought of in that way. As part of the terms for this one, I need to write seven interesting things about myself. ‘Interesting’ is subjective, and honestly this kind of makes me anxious, but I’ve made a list:

I’m a vegetarian. I remember wanting to become one from about the age of 3 when I first realised that meat=animal. But I wasn’t allowed to. I finally put my foot down at 13 and stopped the eating of the flesh. That was 24 years ago.

I used to move house every 6 months, on average. But then I bought a business which included a shop and children’s party studios and I lived in a flat out the back. I lived there for 3 years which was HUGE for me.

I have one brother who is 7 years older than me. We’re not close.

I once made up a lie story about having a twin sister named Adelina-Lou (seriously!), because I was curious to find out if anyone would believe it. I flashed around an old photo of myself as evidence. I was 14 (nope, not a typo). It worked! I even managed to convince people who had been at school with me since we were 4.

When I was in Primary School (aged about 7 or 9) I won a family pass to a visiting circus in a writing competition. I refused to go because the circus had animals in it. I then grew up to work in the world’s largest touring circus (no animals!)

I had my tonsils removed when I was 11. I was overdosed with anaesthetic and ‘died’. I was resuscitated. I saw it all happening from above, like I was floating in a corner of the room watching. None of the medical staff told my mother what had happened, or explained why I’d been in surgery a lot longer than expected. But I started asking her questions about what I’d ‘seen’ and described it in detail. That’s when the truth came out.

I have worked with a lot of famous people. I’d rather work with non-famous people who have absolutely no ambition of ever becoming famous.

I also need to pass these awards on to other bloggers, but in all honesty, I’m as fresh to reading new blogs as I am to writing one, so I don’t have a list yet. I’m going to postpone that until I’ve had time to sit back, read, and absorb what’s out there.

https://rawoncemore.com/2013/05/22/back-again-and-thanks/feed/2rawoncemoreimage by tanaheleneliebsterinspiringbloggeraward1LITTLE STEPS: Down The Drainhttps://rawoncemore.com/2013/05/16/little-steps-down-the-drain/
https://rawoncemore.com/2013/05/16/little-steps-down-the-drain/#respondThu, 16 May 2013 12:33:56 +0000http://rawoncemore.com/?p=257Today I thought I’d take a look at something that I think all of us are guilty of doing at some time or another. How often do you contemplate your pipes? Ever wondered about the journey your dish water takes once you pull that plug? Ever stopped to consider exactly how many drops of used cooking oil it takes to kill a fish? Or an ecosystem? This post could be accompanied by some graphic and horrible images, but I thought I’d post photos of some creatures I’ve met on my travels instead. Creatures who can remind us just how important it is to take the extra effort at home to protect our waterways.

A tiny crab we discovered in Fiji

We use water in diverse ways in our homes: cooking, cleaning, washing, playing, soothing, nourishing, drinking, and of course, flushing. But whatever the reason, all the water we use, whether at home or out and about, makes its way via drains to the sewerage system. Still with me? Not the most fascinating topic, I know. But our lack of interest in our drains is causing damage to our waterways, and the ecosystems they support. What goes down the plug hole, also has to come out somewhere, and for most homes it’s the sewerage system. After treatment, this water then rejoins the water supply for reuse, or is released into creeks, rivers, and oceans. When we don’t pay attention to what we’re putting down the drains, the entire system is affected, which can:

1.block and damage pipes, causing expensive damage to individual houses, and can also damage neighbouring properties and the sewerage treatment facilities. A build up and/or leakage of sewerage is also a health hazard (and stinks like nothing else) 2.limit the amount of water available for reuse 3.effect the health of waterways

Now most of these I would think are obvious, but obviously they’re not! I think that a lack of awareness of the entire process, combined with an apathy which comes from an ‘out of mind, out of sight’ mentality, generates actions of convenience and not consciousness. How could anyone be aware of where that condom, nappy, or bottle of RoundUp will end up, and still flush it away? So working from the premise that information and education can overpower apathy, here’s an easy list to follow to help our precious water resources:

STRAIN: use a sink strainer to catch the debris that would ordinarily go straight down the sink when you rinse in the laundry, bathroom, and kitchen.

SCRAPE: veggie scraps, bread, egg shells, coffee grinds, and other food scraps can be put to use in your compost heap. Scrape your plates, pots and pans before washing them. General consensus, however, is that meat and dairy scraps can only be used in Bokashi type systems. If you can’t have an outside compost heap, Bokashi and other indoor systems can fit easily on a bench top in the smallest apartment. However, if you can’t compost, consider saving scraps for neighbours, or a community compost scheme. If you must throw your scraps out, put them straight into your collection bin rather than putting them in a plastic bag first, as this will allow them to break down easily and quickly once they arrive at the landfill site. Many meat and veggie scraps can also be saved in a container in the freezer to make your own stock.

WIPE: wipe oily dishes, pots and pans with paper towel before washing them. This paper towel can then be thrown away, or ideally, put in the compost. If you have a large quantity of used cooking oil, put it into a container to throw away, or dig a small hole in the backyard and bury it (without the container!). In some places, cooking oil can be collected for recycling- check with your local council.

RESPECT: respect our waterways by respecting your toilet: it has to cope with enough grossness! Nappies (diapers), sanitary products, condoms etc belong in the bin. Not in the toilet. Simple. As. That.

CHECK: check with your local council or garbage authority how to dispose of household and industrial chemicals and oils in your area.

RETURN: take unwanted and expired medications back to the pharmacy. They will dispose of them safely.

MINIMISE: Use less dish washing and laundry detergent, shampoo and conditioner. The average consumer uses three or more times the amount actually required for the task. Reducing the amount you use reduces the amount that ends up down the drain in the first place. (Incidentally, did you know that the instructions ‘rinse, lather, repeat’ on shampoo bottles were added after marketing experts decided it would be an effective way to sell more shampoo, by leading consumers to believe they needed to use at least twice as much as necessary?) Minimise harm by using products with the least harmful ingredients. This includes chemicals in toiletries (which harm you as well!), and chemicals and salts in laundry detergents. Better still save money, your health, and the environment by making your own! I’ll write on this soon.

REMEMBER: if it’s not water it doesn’t go down the sink. And water doesn’t mean any liquid. It means WATER!

A little stingray in Fiji

So, are you a drain on the environment? How difficult do you think it will be to change your habits?

]]>https://rawoncemore.com/2013/05/16/little-steps-down-the-drain/feed/0rawoncemoreA tiny crab we discovered in FijiCoral in AustraliaSea horse in BrazilStingray in FijiCrazy Things I Do When Insomnia Strikeshttps://rawoncemore.com/2013/05/13/crazy-things-i-do-when-insomnia-strikes/
https://rawoncemore.com/2013/05/13/crazy-things-i-do-when-insomnia-strikes/#commentsMon, 13 May 2013 08:55:28 +0000http://rawoncemore.wordpress.com/?p=231I’ve written before about being an insomniac. Insomni-maniac is probably closer to the truth. If there’s anyone out there not sleeping like crazy, it’s usually me.

Photo credit: Nizaad

There’s a number of reasons:

My autoimmune conditions can have insomnia as a bonus

Most of my medications for aforementioned conditions come with built-in insomnia

I’ve had depression on and off for a lot of my life, but have had a very bad episode for the last fifteen months: depression causes insomnia

I keep replaying events and conversations in my head at bed time which one day I’m just going to have to finally deal with

And finally, that Type A, achievement-driven, million ideas per second, perfectionist personality of mine that I’m trying to control. It likes to spend bedtime planning, evaluating, regrouping, debriefing.

So all in all, sleep is like an exotic destination I dream of visiting one day, and no matter how much work I do to try to get there, I just don’t seem to mange it. Except at about 7 am. I can sleep through the days like a champion, but unfortunately society at large doesn’t really cater for people who function that way. And what makes it more frustrating is that Mr Raw could win gold in the Sleep Olympics – he’s asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. Or even beforehand.

As I found myself getting up to my usual crazy insomniac antics at 4am I decided to keep a list of them:
1. Try and avoid screen time because screen time is not friends with sleep time. However when you’re bored because you’re awake, and your overachieving brain is telling you that you may as well not waste time, it’s hard to resist. And because I got rid of all my books and started to use the iPad instead when I went overseas, it’s now the only way I can read my books. So I get it out and tell myself I’ll catch up on my necessary reading and the blog reading I’ve wanted to do. But instead I Google things like giant boobie whale (it’s a thing!), and play games against strangers on the other side of the world who are wasting work time on the internet.
2. Decide it’s time to get out the hacksaw and try to finally get my funky, thick toenails to behave like the ads say they’d should, and try to saw them into thin, shiny beauties, but instead just end up causing myself pain . Yet I keep trying. Insomnia does not lead to sensible decisions.
3. Listen to the snoring coming from the pillow next to me and contemplate ways of stopping my husband from breathing without a) waking him, or b) killing him.
4. Wander out and stare at my snoring dog. Again. Poke her lots so that she’ll wake up and go to the toilet now while I’m awake instead of 5 minutes after I fall asleep, thereby leaving me with a smelly ‘good morning’ present to clean up. She’s 16 so she sleeps through all poking and continues to snore. Smugly.
5. Convince myself I need to pee. Again. I don’t.
6. Drink more water. Again.
7. Actually need to pee after all the water. Again
8. Make to do lists. Lots and lots of to do lists
9. Replay horrible scenes from movies in my head. Yeah, coz that’ll help with the sleep thing!
10. Stage imaginary conversations between myself and people I haven’t seen in ages, or ever met, or who don’t exist.
11. Weigh up the pros and cons of getting myself a pet pig despite my husband’s objections to me doing so. Or a llama. Or an alpaca. Or a monkey.
12. Think about all the fabulous good deeds I’m going to do tomorrow when I wake up bright and early, fresh-faced, and ready to shine. No, years of proof to the contrary have not made me remember at 3am that this will never happen.
13. Look through old photos. Or other people’s photos on Facebook. It’s only stalking if they know about it.
14. Make a list of life goals. Remember I’m not 20, I’m supposed to be slowing the hell down, and readjust list.
15. Start bribing myself to sleep. Myself is very incorruptible and refuses to accept bribes.
16. Sing advertising tunes in my head. Repeat in falsetto.
17. Finally work out what the lyrics to some obscure song that I sang incorrectly as a child really are. And what they mean. Wow! My 8-year-old brain just exploded 30 years later.
18. Wonder whatever happened to that girl/boy/dog/billboard from childhood?
19. Do laundry
20. Clean all of my glasses. I have 6 pairs and I’m pedantic about their spotlessness. Of course they’ll all be spotty again by morning, but again, 4am and logic don’t hang out together.
21. Do online surveys. Pretend I have 3 children, a mortgage, and a shopping addiction. I get to complete more that way.
22. Decide on a change of career and start researching everything involved.
28. Forget how to count. Or splel
24. Repeat several of the above steps.
25. Panic that I’ll never sleep again and wonder how am I going to get through tomorrow?
26. Sob quietly to myself
27. Take a warm bath
28. Drink chamomile tea
29. Have another go at those toenails
30. Reminisce about being an insomniac on the other side of the world and always finding an Aussie friend to chat to online at 4am.
31. Ugly cry
32. Consider cancelling one of the prerequisites to methods of stopping the snoring next to me.
33. Write poetry. Badly
34. Ponder the meaning of life. Ponder the meaning of Crocs. Ponder what came first: orange the colour, or orange the fruit? And why orange? Who invented that word?

Credit: Juli Cady Ryan

35. Stand outside and stare at the beauty of the moon and the stars, and listen to the waves in the distance. Then remember that the sun will soon rise, I’m not asleep yet, and repeat the ugly cry.

You get the idea. If I admit to many more I’ll be considered certifiable. But only at 4am.

So over to you. Suffer from insomnia? What acts of craziness or despair do you find yourself partaking in during the wee hours?

Or are you one of those horrible people who can sleep on a barbed wire fence?